


Celeritas et Celatum

by stopmopingstarthoping



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, F/M, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Spies & Secret Agents, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:04:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmopingstarthoping/pseuds/stopmopingstarthoping
Summary: Atramenta Palliozelli is an agent of the Crown.





	1. Recall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atra is called back from the field, and regrets the year she's spent growing too many roots in Tenebrae.

Atra roused sleepily at the buzzing on her wristwatch. She picked it up and examined the message coming through. The string of six numbers caught her attention, and her eyes were instantly alert, though she kept her body languid. Falsely accented tones fell from her lips as she stroked the pale hair on the pillow next to her. 

“Morning, love. I'm going to step out for some tea and breakfast, can I get you anything?”

Blue eyes blinked, then squinted, then closed again. Arms swept her close to a smooth, warm chest. “Must you, right now?  This is so  _ nice.”   _

“I'll come straight back, and will resume prime cuddling position. On my honor.”  She reached up to kiss him, tracing her fingers over his brow. 

He huffed and whined. “ _ Fine _ . Bring me a scone, and you know how I take my tea.”

“I do. See you in a bit.”

“Claudia, my love?”

“Hm?”

“Don't be long.”

“I won't, Ravus.”

Back at her apartment, she picked up her secured phone and dialed in to the office.  It was Leonis.

“All LIS units are being recalled from the field. No exceptions.  Effective immediately.”

She sighed. “I'm very close to obtaining highly valuable information.  Can my recall be extended?”

“I'm afraid not.  Your train leaves in a hour. Be on it.”

“I can't just - disappear. My target,” she swallowed, “is attached and powerful. He'll tear the city apart looking for me.”

“You know how to handle these things. Dear John him if you have to, but get your ass back to the home office.  Now. Under specific orders from the King.”

Atra clenched her fist.  “Sir.” 

She hung up before he could hang up on her. 

“Dammit!” She kicked her desk chair, hard, then slowly and deliberately righted it to sit down and write an email. 

_ To:  noxfleuret.ravus@mail.fenestala.tb _

_ From:  sommelier-claudia@mooglemail.com _

_ Subject:  I’m So Sorry _

Atra stared out the train window as it pulled out of the station, willing herself not to cry.  As she watched the lush greenery of Tenebrae fall away, she realized there was really no reason to avoid crying on this mostly empty train.  Dark was coming, and even if someone recognized her, it would be consistent with the awful story she’d just typed out. So she did, quietly, until dark fell and her head lolled against the window.

Dreams and memories merged in her mind, and she drifted.  

_ Pale white strands tumble through her fingers, and a stern brow relaxes under her touch. _

_ Blue eyes ask her to stay, and she does. _

_ Warm fingers lace together, and she lifts their intertwined hands to her lips to kiss them. _

_ Moonlight highlights the curve of her breasts and the sharp angles of his features. _

_ He throbs under her lips, eyes squeeze shut, teeth clench, and he releases himself in her throat. _

_ He tells her how alone he is, that she’s the first one since his sister that he’s felt safe with.  Instead of answering, she kisses him, long and sweet and tasting of Tenebrae red. _

_ She shakes with anticipation, spread out on the biggest bed she’s ever seen. _

_ He laughs, genuine, with Pryna hopping and dancing around his feet. _

_ She straightens his jacket before he lifts his chin and strides out for another day as the head of an occupied nation. _

_ He looks at the floor, beaten by the day, and she strokes his temple, dropping a kiss. _

_ He takes her, hard and fast, under the night air on the balcony outside his rooms.   _

She woke up to the familiar skyscrapers of Insomnia on the horizon.  Her eyes were sore, and she knew they’d be red. She knew she’d get a lecture from the Marshal on getting overly attached.  She was still too angry and betrayed to care.


	2. Reactionary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atra comes to terms, somewhat, with returning to life in Insomnia.

Atra’s heels snapped down the polished stone floors of the Citadel.  She arrived a full passive-aggressive seven minutes late, eliciting a clipped “Come” from the Marshal in response to her knock.

He was seated behind his large desk, and he stood up silently to greet her. He looked tired, she thought, and she stood in front of his desk with her hands clasped in front of her. She’d worn an office-appropriate flowing white blouse with a pencil skirt and cardigan in traditional black and gray tones, as she knew would be expected.

“Sir.” Her chin lifted to meet his gaze, and she decided not to conceal the fact that she was furious, though he'd probably guessed.

“Sit.” He motioned at one of his guest chairs, and she sat, stiffly, not leaning back. The leather creaked quietly underneath her.  He sat behind his desk at the same time.

Right to the point, as always. “You're not the only field agent being recalled.” His squared-off jaw was impassive; despite her training, background, and natural aptitude, Atra had never been able to read him. Under normal circumstances Atra respected that, but today it was infuriating.  She nodded, still irritated at being included at all in the return of agents from the field.

“It's the entire department. It's being eliminated.”  Her eyes widened. “You're getting that information early, and only because you have A-level clearance.  This comes from the top.”

“Lord Amicitia?” She was surprised. He rarely involved himself directly in agency-level affairs.

Cor nodded. “And His Majesty himself.”

 _Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit._ With one decision, she was out of the only job she really knew how to do. The shadow of her family loomed in her thoughts. _No way. Maybe a private investigator gig? Ugh._

Cor was still talking. “Due to your service record, you and several other LIS agents are being offered positions in the LMI.”

“A cop. You want me to be a _cop_.” Still, it was a better option than the ones she'd thought up.

“It’s not a police force, Atra. They work closely with the Kingsglaive. I can get you assigned to domestic intelligence, but - the LIS is done. It was the best I could do for you.”  Cor switched into mentor mode, standing up and walking around to the front of his desk. “Let's be honest. It was probably time for you to get out of Tenebrae anyway.” His clear gaze bored into hers.

She looked up at him defiantly.  “You were dissatisfied with my performance?”

“No.” He sighed and leaned on his desk. “The information you provided was good, and helped us back here at home tremendously. But personally, Atra… you may have been there too long.”

She refused to acknowledge his meaningful look. “I'm a professional, okay? You could have left me there for a decade, and it would have made no difference. None.” She stayed seated, but she hated how imbalanced it felt with him standing.

“Did you know, at one point, we considered ordering you to kill him?” The name _Ravus_ went unspoken, but they both knew who Cor was referencing. Atra used every skill she had to avoid showing any reaction at all, and it was incredibly difficult. She controlled her breaths, her expression, her eyes, and she willed her heart to beat slower. She intentionally relaxed her posture. She looked at Cor, the picture of the solid stoicism she fought to portray, and knew that she was failing, as he continued.

“Could you have done it?”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “Of course.” She used her voice and her body to convey cold, businesslike annoyance.

Cor sighed and tapped a folder on his desk. “Take this to Martine. She'll process your transfer and get you a new assignment.”

“Thank you. Sir.” Atra stood and took the folder stiffly.  “Will that be all?”

Cor sighed again.  “Please try to be - slightly less _you_ around the LMI. They're good folks, Atra, and they believe in their mission.”

Atra nodded, turned on her heel, and left. She wasn't sure if she had told the Marshal a lie, exactly, but she had the distinct feeling she hadn't told the truth.

Martine’s desk was just outside the Marshal’s office, and Atra smiled at her as she handed over the folder.  Martine scanned it, surveying Atra with a familiar look.

“Yes, good to have you back, Agent Palliozelli. You’re lucky - not all the LIS agents are being transferred. Some folks are simply out of a job.”

Atra nodded, not really caring if Martine thought she looked grateful or not. _All of those LIS agents, out of jobs. They have to know they’re going to wind up with a bunch of them working against the Crown. Not everyone can maintain a successful private investigation business, or be… a security guard. Or_ _whatever_. She thought of her family, and how they would inevitably be completely irritated to find out she’d been cut loose - maybe even more irritated than they’d been at the prospect of her working for the government in the first place. But LMI? The same force that busted their illicit gambling rings, dragged them into court for bribery, and enforced the laws against extortion? Atra groaned inwardly. _That_ was a discussion that could wait until Shiva caught on fire, as far as she was concerned.

Martine finished entering information into her computer, and turned back to Atra. “You’ll want to step up to the fifth floor, dear. I’m afraid you’ll have to go through intake all over again. You’ll likely spend the rest of this week on basic information, computer training, and registering all of your levels again.”

Atra blinked at her. Now this had just gotten utterly ridiculous. “Levels? Doesn’t that transfer with my file?”

“I’m afraid not, sweetie. It’s kind of funny, really. _Your_ file is Classified - A-level. Most of the folks at the LMI are at C or D level, so your whole file is really inaccessible over there, especially for the admin staff.” She laughed a little.

“You’re - kidding.” Atra slumped and accepted the slip of paper Martine printed out for her. She tucked it into her purse and took a deep breath. As she walked back toward the elevator, she noticed Agent Daschle headed down the hall toward the Marshal’s office. She smiled at him sympathetically, wondering if he’d be terminated or reassigned. When he passed, she rolled her eyes. _Lazy sack of shit, he’ll probably be grateful to get a damn desk job as long as he keeps his salary._

She pressed the button and waited, tapping a shiny black toe with impatience. She pressed the button for the fifth floor, realizing she'd only been up there a handful of times.

Atra despised the entire floor on sight, from the overly friendly receptionist to the carpeted floor to the cubicle farm. _Seriously? Making phone calls out here where anyone can hear? Leviathan’s tail. What a bunch of hacks._

She smiled brightly at the receptionist. “Good morning. I'm a transfer from the LIS. Palliozelli. Here's my paperwork.” _Since you're not even authorized to look at my file on the system. Apparently._

“Sure, sweetie. Have a seat, okay?” The receptionist’s thick Leiden accent made Atra want to roll her eyes, but she resisted. Mostly for Cor’s sake.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Atra had mentally priced out how many PI clients she'd need to pay rent on a small office in the worst part of downtown, and had successfully, mostly, avoided thinking of the last year in Tenebrae - despite the Marshal’s direct reference to those memories. She'd allowed herself an artful slouch in the awful brown chair, hoping the receptionist would pick up on it, but no such luck.

“Miss Atramenta?”

“Atra, please. Yes?” She winced at the formal name and sat up, but didn't move from the chair.

“Come on up, I gotta explain this to ya.“

She heaved herself to her feet and sighed. “Okay.”

The bubbly receptionist held a printout in front of her. “Says here you gotta redo all your levels except your entrance exam.” Her eyes widened. “Which you aced,” she continued with exaggerated approval.

Atra smiled thinly. “Redo..all…. all of them?” _This dingbat has to be kidding._

“That's right!” One bright, pink-manicured fingernail swept down the checklist in front of her. Without fail, the rating for each line item read either [Classified] or [Expired]. “Looks like you've been out of Lucis for quite some time. You'll need to re-up all of these.”

“My weapons scores can't possibly be classified.” She scowled, darkly. This day had tapped her resources, and she figured being a little intimidating couldn't hurt.

“Nope, these couple here are expired.” The twangy accent had taken on a little bit of an edge. “But anything you didn't pass here at the Citadel - that's classified.” Atra remembered how she'd leveled in small weaponry, and supposed it did make sense that _that_ was classified. She smiled a little, remembering the look of sheer surprise on the low-level Niflheim operative’s face in his last moments.

“How - why would they expire?” Atra was baffled. Skills were skills, right?

“Well no, let's see. Yep, it's right here. If you pass a level but don't continue your field experience, it expires after a year.”

Atra put a hand to her forehead. “And my field experience is -”

“You got it, honey. Classified.”

 _Titan’s. Left. Fucking. Nut._ Atra smiled while quickly imagining eight precise and specific ways to murder this woman and leave no trace.

“Let's get you scheduled for some testing.”

Atra sighed in defeat. This day really could not get worse.

* * *

Atra yelled over the music of the club. “And the worst fucking part? I have to go through training all over again!”

Riza’s eyes widened in response, slightly tipsily. “Nooooo. Really? I thought government contracting officers wouldn't be so formal.”

“Ugh, apparently there is all this ethics bullshit. And the offices are horrible. Cubes.” She shuddered. “Makes me wish sometimes I'd gone back to the private sector.”

“You're in cyber, right? I know some folks, lemme know if you wanna switch.” Bouncy curls swung as Riza gestured emphatically.

“Nah.” She waved her drink. “Bullshit revolving door regulations. I couldn't work with the government for a year. And that's where all my experience is.” She'd known Riza longer than almost anyone else in Insomnia, and Riza still didn't really know what Atra did. Atra wondered if Riza would find out now that Atra had been transferred. _Maybe I'll have to wear a fucking uniform. Or a badge. That'd be super neat._ Atra made a face and drained the purple concoction, which had been way too sweet for her taste.

Atra nodded at the bartender, who looked at her inquisitively. “Whiskey, this time, over ice, please.”

“Well, as it turns out, I have just the thing for a bullshit week. Follow me.”

Atra’s eyebrows quirked with interest, and she set down her glass and followed Riza into a shadowy corner.

The answer, of course, was Ulwaat ruby. Atra knew exactly how it was made, and pondered whether she could do so herself. She shrugged. Probably. Not entirely safe, but not entirely unsafe either. The translucent red pills flashed in her palm just for a moment. They clacked against each other as they disappeared down her throat with an efficient toss of her head.

Atra met Riza’s eyes with a grin, and they headed back up to the bar to pick up round two. They stood on the outskirts of the dancers, draining the drinks and waiting for the ruby to take effect.

Atra felt a pleasant rush in her chest and blinked, knowing her vision would blur slightly in the next five minutes or so. She felt the thump of the bass fuzz through her chest, and her hips swayed a little on their own. Her head turned when she heard Riza laugh, and it took a moment for her vision to catch up. Blonde-brown corkscrew curls bobbed, and Atra grinned in response. Riza grabbed her hand and they wound their way into the crowd.

Bodies pressed close, and Atra let go. Her arms floated up, and she felt the shift and roll of the limbs around her. She took pleasure in the simple anticipation and pulse of the drop, and the visceral throb of the music in her body. She welcomed other dancers into her space with joy, and felt an unearned kinship with all of them.

Atra had no idea how much time passed before those two drinks caught up with her, but when she burst into the restroom, she let out a wild laugh at her appearance. Brown strands everywhere, and bright red lips now faded. She leaned, slowly and carefully, close to the mirror to reapply the lipstick. Damage mostly repaired, she flipped her hair and shrugged, letting the long waves fly where they would.

Moments after Atra closed the stall door, the stall next to her shook the wall as someone crashed into it. She startled, then realized what was happening when she heard two voices, one muffled.

“Hey, settle down gorgeous.” The voice laughed; it was a jovial, easy tone. “This is a lot less comfortable than my bed, you know - shit!” He interrupted himself with another laugh.

The second voice was still muffled, and Atra missed making out the words, but she heard them slam into the opposite wall, and then wet, smacking sounds and small moans.

Atra was still high enough to feel bold, and she shifted so she could peek through the space where the walls of the stall joined. Sure enough, two men writhed against the wall. The taller one was licking and sucking at the smaller one’s neck, murmuring softly and nipping a little.

He looked up and caught Atra’s eyes, popping a cheeky eyebrow. He was cute, with a little tattoo under one eye and a surprisingly casual reaction to being watched.

Atra gave him an off-balance, open-mouthed grin, and he returned his attention to his - boyfriend, or whoever he was. They seemed to know each other.  Atra wondered about it, as she watched the longer-haired man grope the other one’s ass as he bit into a long pale neck. The shorter, spiky-haired man let out a quiet, needy groan, grinding into Eye Contact’s crotch.

Atra wondered if they’d be bold enough to fuck right here, and if she’d be bold enough to watch. She’d played this game with Ravus before plenty of times, but one of them had usually been the bait. It was impossible to avoid thinking about it with the show going on in front of her. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” The man's affectionate tone preceded the door bouncing shut again, and they were gone. Atra took a deep breath, and steadied herself, leaning her cheek against the cold wall of the stall. She was spinning with desire and her skin tingled. Mostly, she was overcome with longing. The surge of uplift that had taken her over on the dance floor was swept under a fog of regret and frustration, and she knew it was time to go.

Back on the dance floor, Atra felt oddly separated from the crowd in a way she hadn't earlier. She looked around and found Riza, wound around another dancer. By the intensity of their kiss, Riza had found someone to spend the night with. Or two someones, if the hands creeping around Riza’s hips from the other side were any indication. Atra smiled, trying not to let any more of her own memories surface. Slowly, she shifted between people in the crowded bar, occasionally just stopping to sway or dance, until she made her way closer.

She squeezed Riza’s wrist to let her know she was leaving, and Riza made hazy eye contact to give her friend a brief high-five. Atra grinned and tottered a little on her way back out to call a car. She breathed in, continuing to enjoy the sensations under her skin. A pretty decent evening, all told, despite the rather abrupt ending. At least she’d gotten some distance from the day, she thought, trying to look on the bright side. Atra stared out the window at the blurring lights passing by. Insomnia was livelier than Tenebrae, that was for sure. Atra tried to be glad to be back, as she watched lights pulse by in the dark tunnel under the overpass.

Once she was back inside her tiny apartment, Atra flopped down at her desk, exhausted but not ready to sleep, and opened her laptop. Still buzzed, she entered a string of numbers and letters a little less quickly than normal and swiped her thumb over the fingerprint pad. Nothing new on any of her social, except an email notification on her private secured email. She looked at the bolded subject line and grimaced. It was from Pop-pop.

Another typed string of letters and numbers through an annoyed squint, a code sent to her phone and entered, and she opened the message. Sarlio had obviously heard about the government's reorganization - Atra was impressed at the speed with which the information had gotten to him but not surprised. The email was only a little condescending, and that mostly toward the regime, not Atra herself. A relief, she supposed. Just a short, matter-of-fact discussion of what had happened and a demand thinly disguised as a request that he be the first to know about her next steps.

The closing was really the worst part: “The Family is always here for you. Sarlio P.” That was equal parts promise and threat, she was sure, especially since he’d used his given name and not her childhood nickname for him. If she didn't find something to do, she'd get strong-armed right into the family business. Atra rubbed her eyes, smearing dark eyeliner across her face, logged out, and flopped onto her bed on her back.  _What an absolute fuck of a day._


End file.
